


me gusta tu voz

by AnotherGallavichLove



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aka Mention of Blow Job, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Marriage, Post Season 10, Post Season/Series 10, Slight Smut, Soft Husbands, bilingual!mickey, spanish language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25593424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: In which Ian realizes that Mickey can speak Spanish.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 7
Kudos: 270





	me gusta tu voz

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick drabble, because I don't buy the fact that someone can live in a country for two years and not pick up the language lol. I put some quick background info in because I think I'll keep this universe if I decide to write anything more post-season 10. 
> 
> (I speak Spanish, but I'm not fluent, so I'm sure there are some mistakes.)

The sun of the early Chicago summer had Ian tugging the collar of his t-shirt as he expertly weaved his way in between the strangers on the sidewalk. When he had gotten out of bed, barely an hour ago, the sky had been grey, and the air had carried that slight fog of moisture that promised the world would be asleep for a little while longer. 

He had carefully untangled himself from his snoring husband and pulled on some sweatpants before sneaking out of their tiny, Chicago apartment in order to walk the two blocks to their favorite bakery. 

Now, as he was making his way back, his hand carrying a paper bag filled with warm bread, the entire world seemed to have caught up with him; from the sound of the traffic, to the heat of the sun. 

It didn’t take more than five minutes to get from the bakery to their tired apartment building. Half of the units were empty, and for good reason, and they had gotten stuck in the elevator so many times they had promised each other to always take the stairs - but Ian didn’t mind. It had only been about a month, so perhaps he should be checking back with himself in a year, regarding that opinion - but for now, he was married to Mickey, they lived alone, away from any other Gallaghers or Milkovichs - as much as they loved them. It was all Ian had wanted for the past ten years. 

Besides, Debbie, Franny and Liam seemed to have created a tight family unit since she had gotten out of prison - of course Ian and Mickey babysat whenever she needed them to, but a selfish part of Ian was happy they could have a few years to themselves before they had kids. Because surely Mickey would come around on that - a part of Ian felt like he already had. 

Not wanting the newly baked bread getting cold, Ian jogged up the uncomfortable amount of flights before fishing the key out of his pocket and making his way inside - quietly, in case Mickey was still asleep. 

The apartment was a studio apartment - barely that, since there hadn’t even been a bathroom door when they had moved in. They had installed one themselves, of course, because like hell they were going back to their prison days. The size of the place meant that Mickey’s voice quickly reached Ian’s ears when he entered - he was standing by their kitchenette, his hand curled around the countertop, as he spoke on the phone. 

Not in English. Mickey was clearly speaking fluent - as far as Ian could tell - Spanish. How did Ian not know this about him? 

Their eyes met, and Mickey nodded at him - the most he could do without interrupting the conversation he was having. Ian took his shoes off, in no mood to have the restriction so early on their rare day off. As he walked over to Mickey, he gave himself a second to take him in - to appreciate the view. Shirtless, dressed in nothing but Ian’s - clearly oversized - pajama pants, his feet bare. The casual view caused Ian’s stomach to buzz with a happy warmth.

Ian placed himself in front of Mickey, holding up the white paper bag. Mickey looked at it with a pleased smile. He continued speaking fluent Spanish to whoever was on the line with him as Ian put the bread onto the counter behind Mickey, freeing his hands to hold onto his husband’s bare waist. 

“Nunca, nunca.” Ian could feel the pulse of the unfamiliar word exiting his throat as he pressed his lips to an already existing, though fading mark upon the pale skin of his neck. “Mi vida es buena ahora, la tuya también lo será.”  Ian wasn’t really trying to ruin Mickey’s conversation - he wasn’t pressing deep kisses to his skin, not the ones that would have him whimpering within a second. He was just… breathing him in. Appreciating him.  “Escúchame…” Mickey sighed, and Ian felt his fingers brush through his hair, keeping him close. 

Ian had stopped pressing those chaste kisses to his skin; now he just stood there, his thumbs softly caressing the skin of Mickey’s back, his nose breathing in the scent he had loved for so many years. The one that never seemed to change. 

“Eras mi amiga incluso cuando yo no era tuyo. ahora yo soy. Lo que sea que necesites,” Mickey said. Ian heard the faint sound of a woman’s voice on the other line, but he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words, even if they had been in English. “Yo también,” Mickey said. 

Ian registered the motion of Mickey hanging up the phone, so he picked his head up, giving his waist a tug to bring him even closer. 

“How did I not know you speak perfect Spanish?” Ian raised an eyebrow. Mickey rolled his eyes, pushing him away so that he could go for the bread. 

“Sure as fuck ain’t perfect,” he muttered as he got a bread knife out of the drawer. “Lived in Mexico for two years, man,” he answered then, as he sawed the loaf. “If you’re surprised I picked up the language, we might wanna have your IQ checked.”

At the jab, Ian smacked his ass on his way over to the fridge to retrieve the butter, placing it next to the slices Mickey was creating. 

“Never heard it before. Who was that?” Ian asked, wrapping the remaining loaf of bread in a plastic bag to keep it fresh as Mickey slathered the slices with butter. 

“Just… old contact. Wanted to know if I was still down there. Had a job, I guess.” Mickey didn’t look at him, instead focused on getting the butter completely smooth. Ian had a feeling he wasn’t telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but he also didn’t feel the need to push him on it. He knew Mexico wasn’t exactly a happy memory for Mickey - even taking himself completely out of the equation.

“How do you say uh…” Ian started instead, making his way over to the coffee maker as Mickey snorted, clearly preparing himself for whatever ridiculous phrase he was about to translate. “ _My husband’s a hot piece of ass?_ ” 

“You do realize I can’t translate sayings that don’t exist in Spanish?” 

“Okay, got it…” Ian said, as the kitchen filled with the thick scent of coffee. “How do you say uh…” Ian trailed off, trying to think of something good. When he was silent for too long, Mickey picked up the slack. 

“Tomaste tu medicación?” Ian nodded at that, of course realizing what it meant because of the last word. 

With the bread buttered and the coffee poured into two mugs, they made the five or six steps over to the bed, a mug on either side table, the plate of bread in the middle of the bed as they sat down. 

“How do you say ‘ _Thank you for getting my favorite bread, fresh from the bakery_?” Ian asked, right as Mickey took a bite, of course earning himself an eye roll. 

“Gracias por conseguir mi pan favorito, recién salido de la panadería,” he babbled anyway - it sounded like babble to Ian, at least, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy the sound. A minute ago, he had been more than excited for a cup of coffee and warm bread, but the more he heard Mickey speak, the more he forgot all about breakfast. 

“ _I like your voice?_ ”

“Me gusta tu voz,” Mickey said smoothly as he swallowed down the last bite of the first slice. He reached for another one, but Ian reached for the plate, placing it onto his own nightstand, out of Mickey’s reach. “Aye, what the fuck - mmph-“ Mickey’s complaint was cut off by Ian climbing into his lap, and catching his lips in between his own, unable and unwilling to stop himself. 

Mickey struggled for a second or two, but then he seemed to melt under Ian’s touch, laying down onto his back, tugging Ian down with him as the kiss quickly faded into a make out. 

“Speak more,” Ian breathed, breaking their lips apart so that he could decorate Mickey’s chest with soft, pink marks, and shiny spots of saliva while he made his way down his body. 

“More,” Mickey sighed, and Ian pinched his thigh. 

“Want me to blow you or not?” Ian asked, his fingers pausing hooked into the waistband of his own, stolen pajama pants. He looked up at Mickey, who was squinting, a content smile on his lips. 

“Absolutamente quiero eso,” he said, closing his eyes as Ian got to work, both of them happy to forget about breakfast. 


End file.
